


maybe next time

by professortennant



Category: Madam Secretary
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Client!Elizabeth, F/M, Prostitute!Henry, prostitute/client
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-20 14:18:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12434574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/professortennant/pseuds/professortennant
Summary: Elizabeth and Henry meet under less than ideal circumstances. But it doesn't stop Elizabeth from wanting more and more of him.





	maybe next time

If anyone found out, her career would be over. It wasn’t like she sought out a male prostitute (”Ah, escort,” she heard him correct her, mentally). But in a layover stop in D.C., at an airport bar, she had tossed back a shot of Jameson and took a chance on the man at the end of the bar–the one with the soft, kind eyes and the Harvard Law, Just Kidding sweatshirt and glasses. 

It wasn’t until after they had fooled around in a dark corner of the airport, hands desperate and searching, that he had torn his mouth from hers and confessed to her why he was really in the bar. 

She was shocked, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Not when he was smart and funny and unbearably sexy and made her toes curl with each touch. He was a drug and she was his addict. 

So here she stood, outside the hotel room they had always met in, hand knocking their secret knock upon the door. She could hear Russell Jackson’s heart giving out with each knock.

The door swung open and he was there, barefoot and dressed in soft, casual sweats and grinning boyishly at her, bouncing a bit on his heels in excitement. 

“You’re cute when you’re horny.” She stepped into the room, hands already reaching for him. The door shut softly behind them and he was on her in an instant, pressing her back against the door and slipping his hands under her blouse, groaning. 

“You’ve been gone too long.” He set to work on her neck, sucking gently, careful not to leave any marks. Nothing to lead to questions and probings. 

They fell into bed in a tangle of limbs, clothes scattering across every surface of the room. Henry’s mouth on her skin, on her sex, on her lips was hot and searing; every stroke, every flick of his tongue set on bringing her pleasure. Her hands slid through his hair and tugged at the strands in time with each thrust inside of her, both of them clinging to the other as they reached their climax together–always together. 

They lay quietly together, exchanging lazy kisses and tracing mindless patterns on the other’s sweat-slicked skin. The hum of the air conditioner kicked in and Elizabeth shivered, pulling on Henry’s shirt, turning her nose into the collar and inhaling his scent.

It was in these quiet moments she had to bite her tongue. It was here that she wanted to ask him to quit, to be hers only, to come away with her and stay by her side. She could hear his argument in her head as good as if he had said it himself: You promised to never ask me that. I will ruin you.

But she wanted something real, something tangible. She wanted the man in the bar with the glasses who talked to her about religion and ethics and civil rights and the TSA. 

Snuggling up to his side, his arm wrapping around her shoulders like it belonged there, she reached for normalcy. “Henry?”

He hummed against her hair, dropping a kiss to the top of her head. 

“Tell me a joke?”

Henry shifted, licked his lips and grinned. “Well, there is this one joke. It kills every time. So, Thomas Aquinas walks into a bar…”

She listened to him hit the punchline of the joke, rolled her eyes and snorted and told him how truly, truly terrible that joke was and thought, Next time. I’ll ask him to come with me next time….


End file.
